


Sticky Fingers

by WhoopsOK



Series: Tum-Tum [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Newt, Established Relationship, Festivals, Food, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, trickortreatyourself2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: "Hermann knew things were truly starting to get better when Newt’s pudge started to come back."
(Newt’s getting chunky and Hermann finds himself inexplicably pleased by this.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear, this challenge started out for Stucky trash friends, but my love of Newt's tummy cannot be stopped.

In some weird way, leaving the Shatterdome was almost worse than arriving there in the first place. They had spent so much of their time running though it’s halls, stressed beyond the limits of what humans should go through, that leaving feels like the snapping of the rubber band that held them together. While the world was ending, Newt (and everyone else, but Hermann is focused on _Newton_ ) had been on an almost constant manic. Everyone was pretty much camped on level 10, but Newt was set to 12.5, running on his own high, too little food, too little sleep, and too much pressure. They fought, yes, they fought each other and everything else, but eventually they won.

Standing in a world that didn’t need him to save it anymore left Newt shaking out of his skin. The quiet, the tension waiting for the alarm to go off, for the kaiju he’d drifted with to cry out and take over, for _something_ to happen had taxed them. Newt and Hermann, who had found each other in the chaos, had started to wonder if they could even function without it, without terrorizing each other to make up for the absence of it.

To be blunt, they were a fucking mess.

It took a lot of nightmares and screaming and tears and (mandatory) appointments with very patient government sanctioned psychiatric professionals before they started to think they had a handle on being nearly “civilians”, post-war pension and new jobs aside.

Hermann knew things were truly starting to get better when Newt’s pudge started to come back.

He’d noticed it slowly, the softness of Newt’s jaws and the way his belt pinched, but the joy of seeing the light back in his eyes – without the paranoid or mean glint that had been plaguing them – had distracted him. Newt was here with him, living, _happier_ and that had been all Herman could focus on or ask for.

But right now, Hermann’s attention is fixated on Newt’s body.

Newt is back to bubbly today and Hermann can’t take his eyes off of him. They came to this harvest festival with Raleigh, Mako, and a few other ex-employees starting to feel like people again, but somehow they’d gotten separated. Hermann’s only resource against Newt’s assault on his senses has left him defenseless.

Newt is _stuffing his face_ , greasy fingered and ecstatic and Hermann…

Herman is… _affected_.

And yes, there is something he should find gross about this, but after his perfunctory jab about how unhealthy all this food was, watching Newt shove cubes of fried butter into his mouth, he lost the will to berate him. He just looks so damn _happy_ guzzling his slurpee in-between bites of turkey leg, bouncing around from stall to stall, pink and happy and tummy _bulging_ behind his button-down, well…

At first, he doesn’t even realize he’s buying things with the hope – _understanding_ , really – that Newt will take some. This food is a greasy disaster and Newt is going to feel like _shit_ tomorrow, but right now he’s beautiful and plump and glistening; riding the sugar high from the cotton candy that Hermann warns will rot his teeth even as Newt turns a bright smile at him. _For goodness sakes,_ even his lips look fuller than usual. That has to be psychosomatic, but as was said, Hermann is _Affected_.

So much so, in fact, that the sight of Newt sucking powdered sugar off his fingers from his funnel cake is too much to take and he finds himself grabbing hold of the back of Newt’s shirt and dragging him away from the crowd. “ _Honestly!_ ”

“Herms?” Newt asks in concern and Herman can’t even _look_ at him, there’s sugar clinging to the corner of his mouth and Hermann _wants_. “You ok?”

Herman doesn’t trust his voice right now, not while the lights from the stands can still reach them. He has the shameful – hazily, distantly so – thought that he is not waiting, _can’t_ wait. Overcome by a juvenile level of unrestricted _want,_ he drags Newt between the booths, back into a narrow passage pressed between a noisy tent and the brick haunted house.

“Her—?”

Newt’s words get cut off by Hermann kissing him suddenly. If he could even call it kissing; it wasn’t his most coordinated effort. He didn’t even stifle the urge to lick the sugar – the grease, the _sweat_ – from Newt’s face, before going for his mouth. When Newt groans sharply, like he’s surprised, Hermann drops his cane and reaches down to grip Newt’s love handles, leaning on him until Newt’s back connects with the wall behind him. He rolls their hips together hard enough to make his spine tingle.

Newt’s head thumps back against the wall hard enough to make Hermann cringe. “ _Fuck_ , you’re hard,” he gasps, “what—”

“You look so…” Herman grinds out against Newt’s throat, searching for the right word to even use. His hands are full of Newt’s soft sides, he’s kissing his way up to where even his _cheeks_ have gone puffy. He bites down at the crook of his jaw, unfazed by the skin pinking under his teeth; he _can’t think_ enough to be ashamed of himself or of his words _._ “ _So delicious_ …” he breathes, sucking on Newt’s pulse.

Newt starts shaking under his hands. “Fuck, Herms, are you serious?” he exclaims, head jerking as he looks around. “ _Here?_ ” He sounds almost incredulous, but his hands find Hermann’s ass and drag him closer.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hermann says and, when Newt doesn’t respond other than with a breathless moan, continues to rut against him, feeling Newt’s erection growing against his. He doesn’t move to undo his pants, instead focusing on the friction between them and their sugar-sticky kisses. Partly, because this is already _so bad_ if they get caught, partly because if he sees Newt exposed right now – gets to see the bright splashes of color of his tattoos stretched over his belly, the stretchmarks on his ass – he _will_ bend him over and fuck him, right here, crowd separated just by thick plastic be _damned_. His ass is not something easily ignored, not when it fills out the back of his jeans now.

The thought has him groaning against Newt’s mouth, sliding a sly hand under Newt’s shirt just to feel him sweat slick and warm and soft under his palms. His hands travel from Newt’s sides to the front of his stomach, squeezing slightly, hands inching upwards.

“You’re gonna bust the buttons!” Newt warns, but the shaky want in his voice kills the effect a bit as does the idea of Newt _bursting_ out of anything. Still, Hermann concedes when Newt grabs him by the arms – _gracious_ , his fingers are thick – allowing him to clutch his hands against his chest.

“Goodness, Newt, look at you,” he pants, his hands fondling where Newt has started to get honest to goodness _breasts,_ “ _look at you._ ” It’s ridiculous to put his mouth on them through the fabric, but clearly, Hermann has gone in for more than just a penny. He stoops to bite at Newt’s chest through his shirt.

Newt just gasps, his hips flinching forward, one hand coming up to grip the back of Hermann’s sweater, one hand gripping his _hair_. “I can’t believe—” Newt shutters when his fist in Hermann’s hair makes the man bite down harder. “Can you _come_ like this?” he asks lowly, getting his rhythm, drawing Hermann’s mouth back to his. He smirks against his lips when Hermann’s grip on his sides flinch tigher. “Am I _that_ delicious to you, Herms?”

And honestly, Hermann hadn’t thought past getting his hands on Newt right now, immediately, _ten minutes ago_ , but oh, _goodness_ , well— _yes._

Yes, he can come like this.

A swell of noise from the tent behind them swallows Hermann’s groan, Newt’s mouth sealing over his to chase it down. He shutters in Newt’s arms, movements going suddenly erratic as his orgasm creeps up on him, startling the breath from his lungs.

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ , you actually—” Newt’s voice is a little frantic if deeply aroused, and Hermann is not surprised to be spun around and pressed nearly flat against the wall by Newt’s bulk – his soft tummy and chest – as he chases his own orgasm against Hermann. He comes a moment later, breathing Hermann’s name against his lips.

They stand there for a moment, shakily catching their breath, the noise of the festival around them creeping back in and dragging reality along with it. Hermann is still trapped between Newt and the wall behind him and, as if that isn’t distracting enough, all the trains of thought that had stalled when he drug Newt back here are back online and crashing into each other.

He never wants to move, they need to leave this alley, they need to _shower,_ he wants to kiss Newt forever and ever, his hands are back up Newt’s shirt and he doesn’t remember putting them there, what would the others _think_ , he’s standing in _public_ with _ejaculate_ in his pants and Newt’s got a pretty vicious hickey starting at the hinge of his jaw and this might just be the _hottest_ thing Hermann has ever— _they’re in public._

In short, Hermann is pretty damn shocked by how hard he just came and the traffic jam in his head is making it hard for him to process. His _legs_ are shaking.

“Herms, I’m clutching my pearls!” Newt says, even though he’s just as out of breath and sticky.

“Shut up,” Hermann snaps back, even though he hasn’t lifted his face from Newt’s shoulder. When he finally stands upright, Newt’s eyes are bright and his glasses are all askew and his face is flushed and full, fat and _happy_ – _help him_ – Hermann is so in love.

“What’s gotten into you, dude?” Newt says, holding him steady.

“You are so…” Hermann can’t put words to the swelling in his chest.

Newt offers some suggestions as he stoops to grab Hermann’s cane. “Awesome? Amazing? _Orgasmic_ , maybe?”

“ _Insufferable!_ ” Hermann exclaims, but he sounds so enamored that Newt’s heart leaps when they kiss.

Even so, he smirks shamelessly, scratching at his soon-to-be hickey. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘irresistible’,” he teases, then laughs brightly when Herman flushes all the way down his neck, storming off in the kind of waddle only exhibited by someone trying to disguise wet undies.

“ _Insufferable!!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…your tummy, however big or small, is very nice and cuddle-able!


End file.
